Jones
by Sxvgwii
Summary: After a night of drinking his problems away, Arthur Kirkland awakes to find himself in someone else's bed. It's the last person he expects - his overlooked assistant who suddenly seems to be much more. Rated M for Arthur's mouth and suggestive dialogue later on.
1. early mornings

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Also, this is my first fic. Be nice please? And it was written on my phone, so please excuse any errors. Hope you enjoy. Read and review. Rated M to be safe, for Arthur's mouth and suggestive dialogue. Characters are probably OOC. Human names are used and they are just human in this.

Sunlight streamed in through thin curtains, warming a pale face hidden through unruly honey blonde hair and massive eyebrows. A tentative sigh escaped chapped pink lips as eyelids squeezed together to shut out any sun rays that made it past his visor of hair and eyebrows. A headache was already coming into place, greeting his morning with a vague reminder of the night before. Arthur Kirkland hated being hungover, but he enjoyed drinking too much to care. After all, he had become used to the sensation. Opening an eye cautiously revealed an emerald green orb that hazily took in his surrounds. What Arthur Kirkland was not used to, however, was waking up in someone else's bed.  
Mentally, he ran over his checklist in his head.  
_Does my ass hurt? No. That's a good sign already._  
_Do I feel as if I preformed strenuous activity last night? No? Somewhat of a disappointment, but still a good sign._  
_Do I feel as if I've been drugged or beaten? No and no. Well this was beginning to look like a good day._  
_Am I clothed? Yes, minus my tie and shoes which would explain the uncomfortableness..._  
_Do I - dear God, what is that incredible smell?!_  
A tantalizing scent had entered the room, swirling around him and seducing his nostrils. His eyes flashed open as he sat up on the bed, sheets and a thick white duvet pooling around his waist. A quick survey revealed books stacked on a nightstand beside him and basic bedroom materials. A lamp on the nightstand, alarm clock, thin curtains, a dresser with what looked like a t-shirt sticking out of a drawer, a closet, a - bloody hell, is that a Captain America poster?! Arthur stared incredulously at the massive poster adorning the wall near a door that must have held the closet.

_Fuck._  
_I went home with a teenager._

Slowly crawling out of the bed, Arthur gingerly placed his feet on the plush carpet. This place must have been a flat judging by the looks of it. Placing a hand on the nightstand he stood, steadying himself as a dizziness overtook him. Once the spell has passed, Arthur found himself shuffling towards the door that he assumed led out of the bedroom. The incredible smell was growing in strength and Arthur found his mouth beginning to water. Groggily, he pawed at the doorknob before finally convincing his fingers to work and pulled the door open. The smell hit him like a slap in the face. Salty and strangely sweet with a undertone of smoke. It was accompanied by a slightly bitter, but chocolately smell as well as the smell of fresh bread. Stepping into a hallway, which it could be barely called as it was only three feet long, Arthur turned into an opening on his left. Natural light filled the room which looked to be a formal dining area turned into an office. But before the surroundings could be observed, a flash of blonde out of the corner of his vision caught his eye. As he turned to look, trying to register the moving target through the small bar window, the figure came to an abrupt halt.

"Mornin' Sunshine!"

_Oh Bloody Fucking Hell_.


	2. an awkward breakfast

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. I know my characters are probably OOC, but I don't care. This is obviously set in the business world which I know nothing about, so please excuse my mistakes. I've also never been to a club since I could care less about the whole scene. And this chapter contains a flashback from Alfred's point. Enjoy. Please read and review.**

_A low hum of music reverberated through the walls, bodies pulsating along with the beat. Lights were dark and dim except for the occasional flash of a strobe light and the lights on the bar. Why he was at a club? Alfred had no idea. He wasn't necessarily the clubbing type. Sure he liked to dance as much as the next person, but the sentimental side in him didn't exactly want to dry hump some stranger into oblivion. So at this point, he was sitting at the bar with a shot of whiskey in his hand, staring tentatively at the glass, watching the liquor vibrate along with the hum of the music. A pair of hands gliding over his shoulders brought him out of his daze as a body pressed against his back, "Wanna dance babe?" asked a husky lust-filled voice. Fingers began to trace the collar of his white button –up, toying with the undone buttons and gliding over his collarbone. A pair of breasts rubbed against his shoulder blades as the hands began to dip lower on his chest, the stench of alcohol wafting towards Alfred's nose. "Um... no thanks?" He mumbled, brushing the hands off. Alfred was only on his second shot and was in no way drunk enough to dance with some random woman who was virtually trying to undress him. A scoff followed his reply as the hands quickly retracted themselves. "Fine, suit yourself. You're missing out. You're probably terrible anyway." The remark came out reeking of alcohol and venom as the woman stalked off to find some easier prey._

"_A shot of rum thanks?"_

_That voice. Unmistakably British. Alfred quickly whipped his head towards the voice, peering through the darkness to find the owner. Sure enough, there he was. Wiry and lean with a mop of blonde hair shining in the flashing of the strobe; his hair looked like he just rolled out of bed, but Alfred knew that wasn't the case. Emerald green eyes flashed as he was handed the shot of dark liquid, mumbling a thanks before downing the drink, a grimace flashing over his face at the unmistakable burn of liquor._

_Alfred just watched, observing as the man easily downed three more shots, green eyes beginning to spark with mischief as the liquor began to take its effect. Despite the quickly approaching drunken state, Mr. Kirkland was beautiful. Pale and lean, Alfred wondered how soft his skin would be to the touch. Ordering another shot for himself, he quickly pushed the thought from his mind. Arthur was his boss, albeit he was only five years older than himself. But not only that, he was a successful international figure. And to make matters worse, he didn't even spare Alfred a glance whenever he had to enter the office and give him a rundown of the day's schedule. Glancing back to where the older man sat, or at least was sitting. Alfred turned his body to look out into the crowd, eyes intently scanning the mass of writhing bodies. A flash of blonde hair rubbing against another blonde male who was eyeing him hungrily told Alfred all that he needed to know. Ordering one last shot and downing that abruptly, he stood and began to weave his way into the crowd. Time to be the hero._

_This can't be happening._

_Of all people, why does it have to be him?!_

"Hungry?" Asked the blur as it came from behind the bar, holding two plates piled high with steaming food. A blinding grin was set on his mouth as he pushed a few stacks of papers around on a small circular glass table, setting the plates down. Bacon. That was that heavenly smell. And eggs? And some sort of biscuit looking thing? Arthur didn't have the courage to move as he stood staring at the man before him who slid into a seat at the table, oceanic blue eyes watching him from behind thin wire-framed glasses. The younger male motioned at the other plate expectantly as he dipped a fork into the pile of scrambled eggs.

_Jones. Alfred Fucking Jones.  
He slept with his god-damned assistant.  
And now he's made him breakfast.  
Fuck. Me._

Arthur slowly slid himself into the seat opposite of Alfred, alternatively staring at the food and Alfred with a foggy gaze. Alfred however, continued to eat quickly. And vastly. Good God the boy could eat. By the time he had finished off his plate, Arthur still hadn't made any movements that suggested eating any time soon. His stomach lurching inside of him as he tried to stave off this hangover, but the questions burning inside of him made his headache rage and his stomach lurch more.

"Sooooo…"

Arthur's head snapped up to glare at the other man; when did he get more food? Alfred was sitting there with a new plate and held two small red and white pills in his hand. Arching an eyebrow at the contents of his hand, Alfred offered them out to which Arthur took them gingerly. The boy was giving him Tylenol.

"How did you sleep?" Alfred mused, retracting his hand and grabbing his fork once again, all the while keeping his eyes on the Brit before him.

"How do you fucking think I slept, wanker?" Arthur growled out, voice scratchy from the night's burn of alcohol and little use.

"I don't know," he laughed, grin increasing to the point where it looked like his face would crack in half, "I slept on the couch… you snore."

"I DO NOT FUCKING SNORE!"

"Do too. Anyway, how's your head?"

"…What the hell happened last night, Jones?" Arthur spat out, glare turning vehement.

"You drank a shit ton of rum, danced with some Frenchie dude, he practically molested you, so I swept in all hero-like and saved you from the guy. Then you passed out, so I brought you here." The statement was so matter-of-fact, that Alfred could have just said that he went for a walk in the park. Arthur wanted to slap him.

"So we didn't sleep together then?"

"No…"

"Good,"

"You did try to make out with me though…" a nervous laugh escaped the man in front of him before he shoved a piece of the biscuit into his mouth, chewing slowly.

_What?!_  
Granted, now that he was actually looking at Jones, the boy was practically a model. Taunt tan skin stretched over muscles that could be seen through the thin shirt, not to mention the whole blonde hair, blue eyes, all-American boy next door look that he had going on. He could definitely see why drunk Arthur would try to make out with him.

"What?!"

"Yeah… but you were drunk, so I told you no. 'Cause I'm a hero like that! So I slept on the couch. And you better be thankful! That old thing is like sleeping on a rock!" Alfred stretched his arms above his head, shirt lifting up slightly to reveal a sliver of a perfectly tanned stomach, _Oh God.., _popping his back and neck as he did so to illustrate his comfortless night.

"Right… well, thank you."

"No prob, man. But in all seriousness. Eat. You could use it." A raucous laugh followed, making Arthur's head pound more, as Alfred stood and made his way into the kitchen. A clang of dishes ensued before he came back with a steaming mug, leaning against the door frame of the kitchen with ease. Taking a tentative sip of his drink, he smiled and sighed, pleased with the taste.

Arthur glanced back down at the pile of food before him. It was probably cold, but the boy was right. He needed to eat or he really would throw up. However, he had a hard time keeping his eyes off of the young American who watched him passively eat. _Since when did his assistant start looking like a greek god?_

Alfred laughed loudly and harshly, a mischievious smirk tugging at the corners of his lips as he stared Arthur down over the rims of his glasses.

"I've always looked like this."

Arthur's eyes widened in shock as his drunken stupor lifted enough to realize that he was speaking his thoughts aloud.

_Fuck._


	3. a rushed goodbye

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. **

**Warning: This chapter includes my first attempt at some smut. Mostly just some making out, but if you don't like that kind of thing, then don't read. Not my fault.**

**Enjoy **

_Fumbling with his keys, Alfred glanced at the half-unconscious Brit leaned on his door frame. Emerald eyes were half-lidded and dull as he watched Alfred finally unlock his door. Half-carrying the older man, he managed to drag his boss into the small apartment before dumping him on the worn leather couch. Needless to say, Alfred was exhausted. Practically carrying another man, who insisted upon being dead weight, up three flights of stairs was taking its toll on the young man. Turning to shut his front door and lock it, Alfred set his keys in a small basket near the door before turning his attention back to the disheveled Brit lounging on his own couch. The man looked like he was asleep - eyes closed, lips parted slightly, body relaxed. So using this moment, Alfred knelt before the other man, slowly sliding one brown loafer off and then the other. Taking a deep breath, he moved to a crouching position as he carefully took hold of the green silk tie, slowly loosening it. Suddenly, fingers gripped Alfred's collar and pulling him down. Nearly losing his balance, Alfred's own blue eyes snapped up to meet green before their mouths crashed together. Glasses askew, eyes wide in shock and hands gripping the tie tighter on their own accord as the other man's lips moved against his own. Alfred's body betrayed him as he leaned into the blissful sensation, eyes fluttering closed as Arthur pulled him closer. _

_Damn he was quick for being dead-drunk two seconds ago._

_Pulling back, Alfred broke the kiss to stare at the other's flushed face, a mingling look of desire and shock clouding his own features. A devious smirk curled the Brits lips as he yanked the larger man down again to meet his own mouth. A burning sensation shot through Alfred's stomach, coiling into a knot in his bowels as he was pulled down enough to straddle Arthur, kissing back with intent. Cool hands found themselves under his shirt, memorizing every taunt muscle on the American's torso and gliding up to his defined chest. A slow lick brushed Alfred's lips as he found himself opening his mouth with a low moan, a swift tongue darting in to explore and claim, tasting of whiskey and peppermint. The hands on Alfred's chest pushed and Alfred quickly found himself buried into his own couch, fingers gripping the silk tie and pulling the other into himself as their mouths continued to meld. A large hand brushed up, feeling the silken fabric of the others shirt before gliding back down to a bony hip, guiding them as they inched their way up his body until the weight of the older man was over his own hips._

_Alfred had wanted this for so long and he had him at last. Arthur's porcelain skin was like velvet and so addictive to touch. How his hands wanted to touch every inch of him, mouth and tongue exploring every possible crevice of the older man. Arthur broke the kiss with a soft pant, trailing heated kisses down Alfred's jaw as his hands continued to explore the territory under the Americans shirt, gently popping buttons opened as he went. Humming, the kisses made their way to Alfred's neck, gently nipping and licking. One spot near his collarbone elicited a gasping moan and a shiver from Alfred. Arthur began to attack the spot with fervor, feeling Alfred's whole body respond with ecstasy; but through the hazy alcoholic fog, common sense and reason reared its ugly head. As soon as the fun had started, it was stopped by large hands gripping Arthur's shoulders, carefully shoving him off of the appetizing body. _

_"No..." Alfred panted, holding Arthur at arm's length. Confusion washed over Arthur's face, emerald eyes burning with defiance._

_"I'm sorry... I want to... But, I don't want either of us to regret this." Alfred looked away, looking at anything but Arthur as he slid off the couch and to his feet. Arthur sat dumbfounded on the couch, staring at the taller man as he moved quickly. His cheeks were red and his body obviously desired otherwise, but with one last apologetic look to the blonde beauty on his couch, he turned and quickly stepped into a room, door shutting and locking behind him._

"I-I think I need to go," Arthur stammered, jolting upwards and nearly upsetting the table. His entire face was crimson, all the way to the tips of his ears. He backed his way around the chair and began to frantically search for his shoes. A heavy sigh came from behind him before Alfred slowly meandered across the room, a clinking of keys greeting his ears as he located his loafers near a floor lamp and quickly slipped them on. Turning towards the door that lead to his freedom, he was taken aback at the sight of his assistant already there and waiting, dangling a pair of keys from his middle finger.

"What do you think you're doing?" Arthur growled. He had had enough of this babysitter act.

"How do you think you're getting home?"

"In my bloody car-"

A sigh preluded a meek smile, "you mean the one still parked at the club?"

Again, Arthur stood dumbfounded, glaring daggers at the man standing in his way to freedom. This was already turning into a bad situation, and now it was appearing to steadily go downhill. Alfred reached back into the bowl and grabbed another set of keys, simple with only two keys and a car lock dangling from the key chain. He tossed them underhanded to Arthur, but even with the easy toss, the Brit had no coordination whatsoever and only managed to fail desperately at the air, completely missing the silver keys. Stooping down to pick up the keys, Arthur straightened himself to look into his assistant's smirking face as he held the front door open, gesturing with a sweeping hand.

Arthur stiffly walked out of the door, not bothering to look back as the door clicked behind the American and was locked. Arthur was already on the second flight of stairs before Alfred caught up to him, panting slightly. "Dude, you're faster than I thought!"

"I am NOT a 'dude'!"

"Whatever, DUUUDDE."

With this, Arthur rounded quickly on the boy, causing him to step back slightly in the railing on the stairwell, "I will have you damn well know that I am still your boss and that I am no 'DUUUDDE' and although I appreciate that you took care of me last night and had the common courtesy to not FUCK me while I was dead-drunk, don't you dare think that this changes anything between us!" He snarled, eyes burning with frustration at the man who simply held his hands up in surrender.

"Alright, alright!" Alfred cried, a ghost of a smile on his lips as he leaned away from the fuming Brit. _Hell, Arthur looked like he wanted to cut off Alfred's head, but that still didn't mean that he didn't look adorable while doing it.. Fuck Alfred, quit thinking like this. It'll only get you into trouble._ Alfred's lips turned into a grin as he side-stepped the Brit and continued to debate with himself as he trotted down the remaining stairs and into the parking lot.

The car ride was even worse than the breakfast. For Arthur at least.

He sat in the passenger seat of the blue CRV with his arms folded firmly across his chest, a scowl overtaking his features as he glared out the window. The drive was virtually silent, even with the soft hum of the radio breaking into their tense silence. Alfred looked completely content as he drove on the interstate, humming along softly with the music and even occasionally bobbing his head in time. He would sneak glances at the surly man beside him on occasion, flashing a Hollywood-esque grin his way if he caught Arthur's glance in return. A few attempts at conversation were made on the seemingly endless drive, but they were shot down with a grunted reply each time.

Arthur watched the scenery pass, multitudes of restaurants and hotels dotted the sides of the busy interstate. Why an interstate was so busy on a Saturday was beyond him. _Don't people have better things to do than drive places?_ Finally, their exit came and Alfred pulled off of the busy road and onto a small side road, winding through stop lights until he turned into the club parking lot. Arthur was too busy wracking his brain to remember the events of last night to notice that the car had come to a stop. Pulling himself from his thoughts, he glanced around to take in the familiar surroundings. Alfred was turned sideways in his seat, watching him with those intense blue eyes, a smirking grin still splayed on his features.

"Er.. thanks," Arthur mumbled as he reached for the door handle and opened the door as quickly as the car allowed.

"No prob man, see you Monday..." Arthur nearly bolted from the car, trying to not break into a run as he stalked towards a silver Aston Martin. Hell, he had the money and he did love James Bond. Glancing over his shoulder, Arthur caught an enthusiastic wave before the CRV drove off.

Maybe he could call in sick on Monday? Or transfer to the other side of the world.  
No, no, he couldn't do those things. He would still have to face the rest of the week anyway.

Monday was going to be sheer hell.

**Thanks so much for the follows and reviews! You guys are great! **

**I'm thinking that this was just a one-shot (because I really don't know where to go from here – honest!) So, maybe if I get even reviews and likes or whatever I might continue, but I don't know. I'll need some help to do so. And yes, I do love good-guy Alfred and excuse my OOCness for the characters.**


	4. Monday, Monday

**A/N: So, I've been having a bout with writer's block. But thanks to the darling Vampire Catfish1, I'm back. Seriously, they are my savior. I had an idea, but I wasn't sure on how to present it or go anywhere with it once I did. But they seriously saved my ass! (I'm an adult, I'm allowed to cuss and if you didn't like it you wouldn't be reading this.) So anyway, thanks for all the wonderful reviews and follows. You guys are great!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or any of the millions of other things that I reference in here.**

-Arthur's POV-

Somehow, I believe that Fate has made it to where Saturday and Sunday were completely skipped and I was deposited on my ass to Monday.. or at least it most certainly feels that way.

At the moment, I had parked my car in the parking garage to my building and was hurrying along to my office. I was twenty-two minutes late due to a wreck on the 35 and this frustrated me to no end. Stepping into the main lobby, I was greeting by a glow of warm lights and rich gold and maroons adorning the walls. The two security guards, Burt and Kyle, stood just inside the door and gave a nod of acknowledgement. They looked to be deep into some conversation as they glanced towards me, voices lowering slightly as if they were avoiding detection. Strange, but as two former SEALs, I suppose they don't enjoy being eavesdropped on. A nod on my behalf to the receptionist as I dashed towards the lift, pressing the dial to whisk me away to my office. Only a few moments of waiting brought me the lift and proceeding to step onto it, I was halted by a feminine voice shouting for me to hold the door. A young and petite female rushed forwards, strands of her mousy brown hair falling from her carefully styled bun as she dashed into the lift, sparing me a grin of thanks as she attempted to straighten her outfit. The grin, however, quickly faded as hazel eyes locked onto my face. A dusting of light pink spread over her nose and cheeks, pronouncing her freckles as her eyes immediately darted to everywhere, but me. I offered her a smile which turned into more a smirk and her blush deepened before a soft giggle erupted from her through. Curious.

The lift reached her floor and she stumbled out of the doors, almost as if there was a fire. Curiouser. Doors shutting once again, I was whisked away to my own floor on the sixth level. It seemed like the fates had some vendetta against me, for as I stepped from the lift, the incessant chatter that filled my office level immediately died down to a quiet hum of feigned productivity. Eyes glanced in my direction for brief moments before returning to their work or the person that they were speaking with. At this, a jolt of anxiety erupted through my spine and I felt my body prickle with the sense of impending alarm.

_What the hell is going on?!_

Rushing through the sparse desks, I quickly stepped into my office only to nearly collide with an immoveable object. Teetering backwards, my eyes automatically shut as I began to flail for something to grab when a large warm hand caught my waist, another catching one of my wrists. I slowly opened one eye and looked into the face of the last person that I wanted to see this morning.

I was drowning in a sea of blue. Blue eyes stared into green with a look of worry as the hands steadied me onto my feet, lingering for only a moment before quickly withdrawing themselves.

"Mr. Kirkland? Are you alright?" Alfred asked, eyes searching my pale face as if searching for an answer.

"Q-quite fine, I assure you." I stammered, held captive in those blue orbs. _What the hell? Why the hell am I fucking stammering?_

"Okay… well, I'm glad that you're here now. I was about to call you." At this Alfred took a step back from my person to flash me one of his winning smiles.

"Why on earth would you call me?"

"Because you were nearly thirty minutes late? You're never late Mr. Kirkland." At this, he turned and went back to the desk just outside of my inner office door, shuffling through a stack of papers before returning to me. _Of course he would be concerned if his boss was late for work, wanker._ He held out of a single crisp sheet of paper before pulling a small PDA from his pocket and scanned over it with those beautiful eyes. _Quit thinking like that!_ "You have a meeting with Lovino Vargas in an hour concerning the expansion of the company, followed by a video conference with Yao Wang in China concerning the production costs and rates." He glanced at me over the rim of his glasses at this to make sure that I was listening before gesturing at the paper I now held in my hands, "That is the report for our annual costs. I've already looked over it and I haven't found a mistake, but I know that you like to do things yourself… so there it is." With this he waved a hand nonchalantly, "if you don't find any mistakes, it needs to be returned to the accounting department, block B to Mrs. Pearson, but I can do that for you if you just return it to me by lunch… Sound good?"

"Mr. Kirkland?" Looking up, I realized that I had been standing there standing at the paper like a bloody idiot. Alfred was looking at me with a hint of concern in his eyes. _Alfred?! Since when did I start calling him Alfred?!_

"Mr. Kirkland… are you sure you're alright?" I nodded quickly, looking to him and then back at the paper in my hand.

"I-I'm sure if you haven't found any mistakes, there are none." I muttered, handing him the paper before stepping past him to my office door. I entered the room as quickly as I could and shut it promptly to avoid any more questioning stares from my assistant.

"What the hell is wrong with me?" I mumbled as I slid into my chair, slowly swiveling the chair from side to side as I pinched the bridge of my nose. Taking a deep breathe, I sat up and began to pour over the papers that Jones had placed on my desk that morning.

-le time skip. 3rd person POV-

The rest of the day proceeded the same as the morning. Awkward conversations continued whenever they were necessary and Arthur had managed to stay cooped up in his office for a good part of the day. Whenever he dared to venture out to check on another department or to travel to and from meetings, the whisperings in the offices and the hushed conversations continued. Giggles and glances directed his way and continued to make the nervous shiver drive up and down his spine. Something was going on. _What if Jones told everything about the events of Friday night? What if he told everyone how much of a blabbering idiot he was when he was drunk? What if he told everyone of their failed kiss attempt? Attempts? Oh God… Fucking fuck fuck bloody fuck._ He had to get to the bottom of this.

A pale hand practically slammed itself onto the intercom system, waiting impatiently.

"Yes sir?" Jones voice drawled over the intercom system. The man sounded busy, distracted even.

"Jones, come in here. Now." Arthur's tone was a bit more venomous than he intended, but an immediately rustle of papers over the system alerted him that Jones had gotten the message clearly. A moment later, the door to his office cracked open, a honey blonde head sticking in through the crack before being followed by a body.

"You wanted to see me sir?" He asked. There was no hint of nervousness in his face, but a glint of curiosity. Had it been anyone else, Arthur was sure that the sheer tone of voice that he used on the man would cause a quaking puddle of fear to stand before him. But no, Jones seemed relatively at ease, minus the obvious tension that he carried in his shoulders. Arthur gestured towards the plush leather chair on the opposite side of his desk, emerald eyes glinting dangerously as he stared down the man before him. To be honest, it was entirely an act. A cold and calculating stare and aura emitting from Arthur was to hide the sheer nervousness that he fought to contain within himself at the other man's presence. The possibility that he had been exposed made him sweat under his collar. He could lose his title; hell, Jones would lose his job over the whole ordeal. However, Alfred merely shook his head, cerulean eyes never leaving emerald. "I would prefer to stand sir."

"Fine by me. Have you been busy today?"

"Yes sir, just going over the notes from your meetings and scheduling your meetings for this afternoon."

"Good, listen Jones… about Friday night-"

"What about it?"

"I-i…. have you told you anyone?" A boisterous laugh shook the room, humor glinting in the other man's face as he cracked a smile.

"Naww. I have more respect for you than that Mr. Kirkland. Besides, as I told you. Nothing happened."

"Er.. r-right, well… I was just wondering.. because.. it-there seems to be whispers going around the office… and" _Oh hell, Arthur Kirkland was not some insecure little teenage pansy girl talking to her crush!_ But another laugh broke Arthur from his train of thought as he shot a glare at the American, "What the hell are you laughing about wanker?!"

"Haha, well.. ha, you see. You're quite popular around here Artie,"

"Artie?"

"Yeah. I'm surprised that you're just now noticing? The girls always whisper about you. You're quite the catch," Alfred winked before bursting into another fit of laughter. "Smart, powerful, handsome, British and you're single."

"Bloody hell! Who says I'm single?"

Alfred stared at Arthur as if he had just stated that he was an Asian woman. "its… uh, well… everyone just assumed I guess?"

"…bloody wankers need to bugger off and mind their own fucking business…" Arthur mumbled, turning his death glare to a paper weight on his desk shaped like a horrendous bulldog with a Union Jack on its back.

The American male chuckled as he approached the large mahogany desk and leaned against it. "Is there anything else that you need…_sir_?" Glancing up, emerald eyes roved over the other's form before reaching his face. Jones wasn't looking at him anymore, but looking out of the large window behind his desk. The view was remarkable - a breathtaking view of Manhattan with all of its buildings rising out of the gloom and muck of the daily city life to span into the sky; breaking the horizon with cold steel and clean lines. A community rooftop garden was visible from the view, a lovely combination of colors that was usually unpopulated except when need be. Usually, when Arthur took his tea he found that he couldn't tear his eyes away from the view. There was something so alluring about it, so free that made him want to be a part of it all. But now, he found himself unable to tear his eyes away from his assistant.

What made him so different? How was it that he could go through a night of dealing with a drunken Brit to making him breakfast and then come back to work on Monday and proceed throughout the day as if nothing happened? Why had he never noticed the man who sat on the other side of the wall, who attended to every detail of his day? What had changed?

"What are you doing tonight?" The voice broke the calm and silence, it sounded curious but strangely confident. Alfred turned to look down at his young boss, shock apparently on his face. It was then that Arthur realized that he was the one who had posed the question.

"Nothing that I'm aware of?" Arthur found himself fidgeting with a pen that was lying nearby on his desk, avoiding the gaze of the other man.

"If you're free, I would like to return the favor of your hospitality." _What the hell am I doing?_ "And I would like to take you to dinner and perhaps discuss the events of the other night when I'm not hung over." _Bloody hell._ The poor man looked completely flabbergasted for a moment before a sly smile curled into his lips.

"You want to take me… to dinner?"

"Yes Jones, as repayment for anything that I may have done that night." Arthur sighed, a hand coming up to rub his face in exasperation. "What is so hard to understand about that?"

"Nothing, nothing. I'm free," the smile turned into a full-on grin that would've split any normal person's face. Standing up to his full height, the smile softened slightly as he looked down upon his boss. The Brit's façade was quickly crumbling as it appeared that the realization of what he just asked was dawning on him. "But if you're going to take me to dinner, you have to call me Alfred - not Jones."

"Fine."

"It's a date then, see you then." Alfred chirped, waving a hand as he strode towards the door. Strangely, the same demeanor that he had when he entered the office had never faded, but the confidence only grew.

"It's not a date! Git.." The door shut quickly, but not before a deep chuckled escaped Jones, leaving Arthur to sink further into his chair. Fingers combing through his unruly blonde locks in desperation, eyes wide and lips slightly parted.

_Fuck. It's a date._

**A/N: Hahaha. Hope you enjoyed. Sorry if this seems rushed. Still experiencing some writer's block and I don't get much time to write so it has to be done quickly. Please please please review. Let me know what you think, throw some idea's my way if you have any! I'm always open to ideas. Next chapter reintroduces the hands-on man from the bar ;) *onhonhonhon* And a few other characters might make an appearance. **


	5. Single Awareness Day

**You guys are great! Thanks for all the follows and reviews and favorites! Sorry it's taken me so long to get this up, writer's block and such. And I apologize in advance, I kind of skip between POVs to give you an idea of what's going on. This one is kind of in Alfred's POV and I'll be giving some background, so expect some to either be confused or have the confusion cleared up.**

-_Alfred's POV_-

_Always look on the bright side of life_, a tenor voice hummed softly, whistling the melodic tune as a pencil tapped a stack of papers. _Always look on the bright side of_- "Oh!" The tapping ceased and a furious clacking of keys took their place. The typing ended nearly as quickly as it began as Alfred sat back and stared at the company-issued Macintosh computer, the monitor humming almost mockingly as blue eyes searched over the document, checking his work for the fifth time. A finger wavered over the 'Enter' key before tapping it once and Alfred was immediately greeted with a _ding_ that announced that he was incorrect for the third time.

"Damnit!" He cried, hitting the desk with his hands in frustration as he stared at the computer screen in frustration, "I hate you," he murmured to the joyously bright screen, eyes narrowing at the little black box that had plagued him for the good portion of an hour. Slipping the glasses from his nose, a broad hand rubbed his face accompanied by a sigh. Alfred leaned his elbow onto the desk and hid his face in his hands as he wallowed in his own self-pity. _Damn Impossible Quiz. It's IMPOSSIBLE!_ Peeking through the cracks in his fingers at the now-red screen, indicating that his time had ran out. _Damnit, now I have to start over from the beginning._ The American groaned and glanced up at the small clock next to the door that led to his freedom. Well, kind-of-freedom seeing as he had to work his way through a maze of desks.

4:37.

So close and yet so far. Straightening himself in his chair with a grimace, Alfred waved his mouse to reactivate his computer and clicked out of the annoying red screen. _Might as well get some work done_, Alfred thought to himself as he reopened the MAS90 program. Alfred wasn't an accountant, but he did have a personal budget that he liked to keep track of himself. The account was actually for Mr. Kirkland, but Alfred had complete control over it being his personal assistant.

Time seemed to slow down around five o' clock every day, and especially today. Since the incident earlier, Mr. Kirkland had virtually isolated himself in his office and had practically refused to come out unless he absolutely needed to. Alfred chuckled to himself as an image of his stuffy British boss crossed his mind, huddled up like a caveman and grunting in his office. However, his mind had other ideas as it began to slip into a replay of Friday night's events, but a muffled chorus of the Canuck's goal song erupted from Alfred's pocket, abruptly ending his daydream. Pushing his chair back, Alfred fumbled with around before drawing out the sleek phone and was greeted by a louder version of the song as well as a picture of his half-brother decked out in full Vancouver gear, raising a hockey stick in triumph. Pressing the right button, he held the phone to his ear and greeted his brother loudly,

"Hiya Mattie!"

"Hey Al!" Matthew, Alfred's half-brother, greeted back into the phone "How's your Valentine's gone?"

"…the hell? Valentine's isn't until-" Alfred began as he glanced to his computer clock to check the date, "….today."

"No shit Sherlock," Matthew mused. Alfred was beside himself as he stared at the date. He was single, so there was really no point in acknowledging the so-called-holiday, but he could have sworn it wasn't for another week. Damn, Single's Awareness Day snuck up on him again this year.

"Oooh shit.." The blonde muttered. Was Arthur aware of what today was? Did he realize that he had asked his secretary out on a _not-date-date_ on Valentine's Day of all days?! "Shit, shit, shit, shit."

"Al, what's wrong with you?"

"I've got a date tonight.."

"That's great!"

"Buuuut, it's not a date."

"How's that?"

"It's with my boss…"

"Seriously?"

"I know, I know! But I don't think he realized what day it is and I didn't either and he was just trying to pay me back I guess for not sleeping with him on Friday when I totally could have and-"

"You slept with your boss? What the fuck Al…"

"No I didn't!" Alfred was practically screaming into the phone, leaping from his chair as he paced the carpeted floor behind his desk. "Shit!"

"Al… calm down."

"But I-"

"CALM DOWN!"

"…"

"Good, now listen to me. All you have to do is cancel and do it some other time."

"But he asked me…"

"Well then you're fucked."

"What time is it?"

"Uh…." Alfred glanced up at the clock on his wall, since when had time begun to move faster? His mind registered the time as Matthew stated, "five."

"A-alright Mattie. I gotta go sort this out. I'll call you later, mmkay?"

"Whatever Al, but if the Canuck's are playing I won't answer."

"Is the lockout over?"

"It ended last month. Honestly, you call yourself my brother."

"Half-brother and I like real sports, like football, baseball and-"

"Unless it's the Olympics…"

"Psh, that's because the US of A kicks ASS at whatever we do in the Olympics, but whatever, I have to go." Alfred didn't even hear his brother's response as he ended his call and stared at his phone screen. Well damn, this is going to be an awkward dinner.

And sure enough, it was possibly the most awkward night of Alfred's young life. When Mr. Kirkland finally emerged from his cave of an office, he insisted that they "go to dinner now and get this whole ordeal over with". To which, Alfred agreed. Why? He was hungry and he had decided it was best to not mention the whole 'its-Valentine's-Day-and-we're-going-to-look-like-a-couple' thing to his boss and just play it cool. After all, maybe it wouldn't be as bad as he thought?

_Bad idea._

Arthur chose some ritzy place off of Broadway and had already made reservations at lunch for their dinner. The place was packed and all of the patrons were dressed to the nines. Rich gold and silver décor dripped from every available orifice in the restaurant, almost as if money was just oozing from the walls. Arthur had also insisted that they take his James Bond car (as Alfred called it), but upon insisting and _proving_ that there was no way in hell Alfred's 6'3" frame would fit in such a tiny car, they took his CRV.

Smiles were directed the men's way as they entered the restaurant. _Of course - they looked like they were on a date._ Arthur was dressed in black slacks and a crisp white dress shirt with a tie that made his emerald eyes stand out on his pale features. His outfit was completed with a matching black blazer and a pair of beautiful Italian leather shoes. Alfred was dressed similarly with tan slacks and a white dress shirt, but he was tie- and blazer-less.

Needless to say, Alfred continued to try and avoid the knowing smiles that were shot in their direction as they were led to their table. The tablescape was just as lavish and matched the restaurant's décor down to the details. A cream colored cloth was draped over the small round table, gold colored napkins lie on the porcelain dishware and inside were nestled the polished silverware. A tall wine glass stood next to what looked like crystal glasses, and in the center of the table was a single gold candlestick holding a lit white candle. Red rose petals were scattered across the cloth in a subtle nod to the 'holiday'.

The Brit looked as nervous as a horse in a glue factory as he looked around, taking in the setting and the fabulous couples around them before his eyes settled on his 'date'. His humongous eyebrows furrowed and looked like they would eat his pale features. Needless to say, Arthur looked confused. He began to open his mouth to say something to his American assistant when their smartly dressed waiter appeared at their table.

"Hello, my name is Marc and I shall be your server tonight," he purred, looking between the two slightly bewildered men. "What shall I start you _lovers _off with? Wine? Champagne? Our House Special tonight is-"

"I'm sorry, but _lovers?_" Arthur butted in, glaring at the waiter with malice.

"I'm sorry sir," the poor waiter stammered, looking from Arthur to Alfred with absolute confusion on his face, "I just assumed…"

"Why the hell would you assume that we're lovers?!"

"It is Valentine's Day, sir.."

Alfred was pretty sure that he had never the color drain from a person's face so fast. Arthur was already pale, but not he just looked lifeless. _Shit! What if he's a zombie?! No, no Alfred. He's not… I think not at least._

"I'll just give you a moment then," Marc mused as he shuffled off to the next table, his cheeriness returning. Alfred felt the emerald orbs burning into his skull as he stared off at the massive fountain in the center of the restaurant. Sculpted marble in the shape of some kind of bird, but with the constant flow of water, Alfred couldn't really tell what it was.

"Did you know?!" Arthur whispered, knuckles turning pale as they clutched the knife that he had unfurled from the golden cloth on his plate.

"I-what? N-no!" Alfred exclaimed as he turned his attention back to the Brit across the table from him. Doubt shone in those eyes as he glared at Alfred, fingers tightening around the silver knife in his hand. "W-well…yes.. B-but I didn't find out until right before we left! I swear!" The American exclaimed, holding both of his hands up in self-defense. He truly hoped that Mr. Kirkland was the gentleman that he appeared to be and wouldn't make a scene, but he could see the Brit seething under the calm exterior he was trying to put on. Maybe he could find a white cloth somewhere and wave that around to serve his point?

Minutes passed before his boss finally let out a shaky sigh and Alfred let go of the breath that he hadn't realized he was holding. Arthur closed his eyes and leaned his head into his slender hand, rubbing his left temple slowly in silence. They sat quietly for a few minutes, the air filled with conversations from other tables and a clinking of dishes before Arthur's head slowly raised and he looked at the man across from him.

The intense gaze had softened somewhat as he chewed on his own lip in contemplation, green eyes searching blue for some hint that the American was lying. _Damnit, please don't chew on your lip_, Alfred thought, his own teeth unconsciously tugging on his own lip in frustration.

"Alright," Arthur's voice broke through the still tension in the air around their table, his gaze drifting towards the well-stocked bar on the opposite side of the restaurant. "We're already here, and it's hard enough to get a reservation here…" Arthur mused as he brought his gaze back to the blonde before him, "so, what do you say we just have our dinner as planned?"

"U-uh, okay?"

"I'm going to need a drink though," the Brit chuckled. _He laughed! That's a good sign! …right? Maybe that meant Arthur won't kill him…at least not yet._ Signaling the waiter, Marc drifted back up to them with his cheesy smile, "have you two _gentlemen _decided to stay?"

"Indeed we have but firstly, I'm going to need a scotch on the rocks."

"Of course sir and for you?"

"Uh…bourbon?"

"Excellent choice," Marc chirped as he drew two small menus from somewhere within the confines of his black apron, "I will give you two a moment to decide on what you would like for dinner. Would you like to hear our specials for the night?"

"Sure."

"Tonight we have the roasted duck with an orange marmalade glaze and a cranberry stuffing, served with a wild rice pilaf, roasted lemon asparagus and your choice of either salad or soup. Our soups tonight include a mouthwatering French onion soup with gruyere or a delightful roasted red pepper with smoked gouda."

"That sounds lovely." Arthur sighed as he handed the menu back to the waiter before casting an emotionless glance to Alfred.

"I'll have the same."

"Soup or salad sirs?"

"I'll have the French onion I suppose,"

"Red pepper for me!"

"Excellent choice, I will be back with your drinks momentarily."

As the waiter's back turned on them once again, Arthur took to studying his napkin again while Alfred's gaze drifted towards the marble fountain again.

"I suppose if we must sit here, some conversation would be better than silence?" Alfred's gaze snapped back to his boss, who hadn't even looked up from his napkin as he fiddled with it, folding it one way and then unfolding it to try again.

"I guess…what do you want to talk about?"

Arthur sighed as he finally put down his napkin and set his steely gaze on his assistant once more, emerald eyes locking with sapphire. Alfred averted his eyes to gaze at something else, his hands fidgeting under the table. There was just such intensity in those eyes that it almost felt like Arthur was peering into his soul. It made him nervous.

"Where did you go to school?" Alfred finally choked out, eyes searching around for their waiter to save him from the strangeness he was feeling. It seemed that no matter the situation, Mr. Kirkland was always the gentleman.

"University of London. And yourself?"

"Virginia Tech."

"Ah. What did you major in?"

"Don't you know this already?" Alfred's gaze turned back to his boss with a hint of defiance, a wavering laugh in his voice. Two could play this game. "Or have you even read my resume?"

"You've only been with my company for a month," Arthur snapped back, "I haven't had the time."

"I was a Business Economics and Marketing major with a minor in Finance." Alfred shrugged as he directed his attention back to their returning waiter.

"And you're working as my personal assistant?"

"Yeah, well… with this economy you kind of have to take whatever you can get, ya know?"

"Right."

Silence ensued again as Marc returned to their tableside and brandished their drinks with an emphasized flourish. _Someone wanted a big tip tonight._ "Is there anything else I can get for you?"

"No, thank you."

"Of course." Marc chirped before spinning on his heel and making his rounds to the other tables, chatting happily with the other patrons. Alfred eyed his drink, a decent sized tumbler with a few ice cubes in it and filled with the dark liquid that would make this night a little bit easier. Looking up over the rim of his glasses, Alfred noted that Arthur had already downed his scotch in one fluid movement. _Damn…_ Alfred followed suit, but tentatively sipped at his bourbon instead as his eyes flitted around the room before settling on the man before him. Based on the Brit's facial expressions, he was having a mental conversation with himself. His eyebrows would slightly raise and then lower accordingly as he appeared to mentally argue with himself, entirely oblivious to Alfred's watchful gaze.

Emerald eyes locked onto Alfred's face. Mental battle was over and Alfred had been caught staring at his boss with a small smile on his features.

"What were you doing there anyway?"

"What?"

"The club on Friday. You don't seem like the club type."

"Neither do you,"

"Belt up."

"I was having a drink."

The smaller male seemed satisfied with this answer as he turned his head and caught their waiter's attention, gesturing towards his empty glass. Alfred caught the waiter's surprised expression out of the corner of his vision before the man retreated towards the bar and ordered yet another drink for the stuffy Brit. This conversation was obviously going nowhere.

Alfred hummed softly under his breath as he took another sip of his bourbon, relishing the feel of the alcohol trickling down the back of his throat. He could easily get drunk on the stuff, especially when the restaurant had made the effort to serve him the good stuff. Unfortunately, they were in Alfred's car and with too much alcohol in his system, Alfred wouldn't be able to stop himself if the same situation presented itself again. The waiter returned with Arthur's scotch and set it before the Brit, Alfred's gaze returning to see an amused look directed at him. Stopping his humming and raising his own eyebrows, Alfred turned his head slightly on the side, giving his best confused puppy expression.

"What are you humming?" Arthur asked, eyes narrowing in suspicion and a smile curving into his delicate lips.

"Life's a piece of shit when you look at it," Alfred mused, a grin forcing its way onto his features. For a moment, the blonde on the other side of the table was silent before he burst into one of the loveliest laughs that Alfred had ever heard.

"Seriously?" The Brit laughed with a soft shake of his head. _What the hell? Was this guy bipolar or something? Angry and scowling one moment and now he's laughing at me?!_

"Well it fits the situation…sort of."

"And how is that? I don't believe that either of us are being crucified."

"Well, given the situation the circumstances are laughable."

"Oh?"

"I'm on a not-date-dinner-date with my British boss on Valentine's Day of all days, not only that but we look about the same age and we're dressed formally….sooo."

"Bloody hell."

A loud laugh erupted from the American's throat, his blonde head tipping back slightly with eyes closed as the laugh tore through his body. When the laugh finally subsided into a low chuckle, he brought his gaze back to the scowling Brit across from him, a brilliant toothy grin filling his face that only increased when he noticed the slight pink color appearing on the older man's cheeks. The other's gem-colored eyes narrowed slightly and he set his scowl deeper before turning his attention to the alcohol that he still held cradled in his hand.

"Don't drink too much," Alfred chided when he noticed that Mr. Kirkland's attention had shifted again to his drink, "I can't guarantee that I'll fend you off a second time." Looking over the rim of his glasses, Alfred held the toothy grin, but his eyes flashed deviously. The smaller built blonde's eyes widened slightly and the fading pink from his cheeks returned with a vengeance.

"Wanker…" he murmured before taking a slow swig of the glass, green eyes watching the blonde American as his eyes began to search the room again.

Needless to say, the dinner continued on in this fashion for the rest of the evening. Alfred found that he was enjoying himself, especially when after the third scotch, Arthur relaxed significantly and the American was able to see a highly intelligent and humorous man hiding under the stern façade. But Arthur had taken the warning to heart and stopped the flow of burning scotch after his fourth drink when he realized that he had stopped being able to taste the bitterness of it.

The food was remarkable and Alfred had to give Arthur the credit of picking such a wonderful place, even if he felt a bit out of place. After paying for their meal (which Alfred offered to pay for his own portion, but Arthur refused to hear of it and proclaimed something along the lines that a gentleman doesn't invite someone to dinner and then expect them to pay or whatever), Alfred led Arthur back to his car and proceeded to drive them back to their office building, weaving the vehicle throughout the buzz of the city traffic.

When the had arrived back at the office, Alfred had found himself laughing hysterically at the British slang that Arthur had used while weaving his stories of his childhood and his violent brothers. Arthur even had a damn good impression of the various international businessmen that he dealt with and he could even pull of an American accent. A soft smile found itself sneaking onto Alfred's face and it took him a moment to realize that they had been sitting outside of their office for a good five minutes, just talking.

Arthur had finally finished his last story about when he was in grade school before he glanced at the car's clock, eyebrows raising in surprise.

"Good heavens, is it that late already? Well, thank you Alfred for coming to dinner with me." A smile was sent in Alfred's direction before he made to slide of the car, Alfred's blue eyes watching him the entire way. "See you tomorrow Mr. Jones," Arthur waved before shutting the door and walking through the moonlit parking garage. His hands rose up over his head and stretched his body as he walked, most likely to relieve his back from the car ride but the movement had pulled the hem of Arthur's shirt from his pants and showed the tiniest sliver of pale skin in the moonlight, but it was enough for Alfred to notice.

He wanted for the older man to get into his car and start it before driving away, his thoughts replaying the night's events – _the way the light of the restaurant made the everything shine, including his employer; the way his emerald colored eyes glistened as he told stories and his chuckles when Alfred would make a sarcastic joke. And now Arthur just had to leave him with that little hint of his skin?! It was most likely unintended… but damn._

_Now to go home and take a cold shower._

**A/N: Oh God. I'm sooo sorry. This was terrible. My mind has been elsewhere. School, running a household, games and other stories. I swear. I get going on a story and then my mind is like – nope! Wanna think about something else! My mind is currently focused on a fic that features Arthur as a James Bond-type and Alfred as Indiana Jones** **because I love both of those franchises. Plus, couldn't you see it?! Ugh. I think the next chapter will be easier to write though, no awkward dinner scenes to get through until the next one. Haha. So much sexual tension makes them awkward to write.**


	6. late night musings from arthur

**Short, filler chapter. I'm sorry.**

**Warning: this contains boyxboy and a hint of smut. Read at your own risk please.**

_-Arthur's POV-_

The sunlight was softly waning through the curtains as they drifted in the cool breeze that filtered in from the open window. The sounds of cars and laughter from the streets riding the breeze into the spacious office in a certain Brit's flat. The office room was reminiscent of his own office at work – simple and clean although it tended to house his unicorn and book collection as well as a few keepsakes from England. Arthur found himself stuck behind his desk, once again with a stack of papers that he had brought home with him. It had become routine now as the demands for productivity increased and supplies decreased that Arthur would find bring his work home and curl up in his office for the night and pour over the god-forsaken papers. Even his beloved Scottish Fold, Doyle, had set up shop in the office from all of the late nights spent in there.

And tonight was no different.

A bottle of Guinness clutched in one hand and a paper that was beginning to bear crease marks in the other as he read aloud to himself. Laughter from the streets below pulled him from his thoughts as he found himself reading the same boring line over and over again. His eyes were heavy and his thoughts clouded with the seductive temptress that was sleep. She was a cruel mistress – the only one Arthur had ever truly known, as she took away his sleep with insomnia and then dangled it before him every night when he needed to focus the most.

The paper in his hand crinkled as he set it to the side and stared hard into the dark bottle that housed the amber liquid that he had become so fond of. He missed England. He missed the rolling countryside and the hell, he even missed the rain that plagued his days. He missed the cool air and the smell of salt in the air when he was near the coast and not the smell of dead fish. New York was similar to London, yes, but London was her own and no one could match it. With a sigh, the green eyed male tilted his drink back to his delicate lips and took a long swig, allowing the alcohol to pour down his throat with the burning sensation that he had eventually become used to.

Setting the bottle down on the desk before him, he held his eyes closed as his breathing slowed into a peaceful pace; his free hand coming up to run absently through his messy blonde hair before the eyelids drew back and his gaze landed on his precious Doyle who slept curled up on top of the bookcase. A chuckle escaped him and his heavy eyes became half-lidded as his mind brought his away from his work. The hand slowly trailed away from his hair and rested under his chin, supporting his cheek as he watched the orange and white feline flick his tail in his sleep.

Thoughts of a particular American floated into his mind. How had he managed to go this long and not really look at the boy – no, man that sat on the other side of his door. The way he would look so put together in the simplest of things. It was if the American was so carefree, but his education had showed otherwise. It had been two weeks since their 'not-date-date' as Alfred had called it and the CEO of Kirkland Enterprises couldn't stop himself from thinking of the blonde-haired, blue-eyed man with his blinding smile and damn charisma. A soft smile slid into the curves of his lips as he remembered the way that Alfred would tease him over dinner and laugh abruptly at a snarky comment or insult that the Brit would make, even if they were directed at him.

Shaking his head, he tried to clear his thoughts by reaching down to take another long drink from the bottle of beer. He was acting like a damn schoolgirl with the way he was fawning over him!

"Bollocks," he murmured as the flow of alcohol ended and a final drop cascaded onto his pink tongue. Licking his lips, Arthur set the bottle down on the table and stared at it once again in the hopes that it would magically refill. But alas, that never worked. With yet another sigh, he straightened himself and rose from the chair, clutching the bottle's neck in hand as he meandered out of the office, making sure to flick the light switch off and into the kitchen to throw away the glass bottle. As the bottle crashed into the bin, a plethora of thoughts rushed into his mind with an almost memory-like quality to them.

_Hands roaming over hot skin; touching and exploring the crevices left by strong abdominal muscles - it was all so tantalizing. So delicious, that Arthur craved more. The body beneath his reacted with so much want and desire as his slender fingers worked their way up the taunt skin of the other man's stomach to his well-defined chest. His lips found the collarbone just above and he slowly licked a trail of saliva along the dark skin as his fingers encircled the perk nipples below the shirt's fabric._

_He could feel the tent forming in the other man's pants at his actions as his mouth worked its way upward, licking and nipping at the skin that smelt faintly of peppermint. Licking along his lower lip, the other blonde moaned softly and allowed him entrance to that wonderful cavern of a mouth. It was an intoxicating taste as his tongue swirled around the other's, battling for dominance in that sweet mouth._

_Forcing the other back into the couch, he grabbed the silken tie that was becoming loose from around his neck and hauled himself onto the larger man's hips, making sure to teasingly grind his own budding erection into the others which only produced silken moans from the American beneath him. Slowly working his mouth back down the muscular neck again, Arthur's pale fingers began to quickly work the buttons of the other's shirt until the firm chest was exposed to the cool air of the room. His fingers explored again, touching each muscle and eliciting excited shivers down his spine that began to pool in his lower abdomen. _

_One spot was the trick though, near the collarbone, right at the nape of the other's neck that sent an excited tremor through the younger man's body and straight to his groin. An excitement that Arthur clearly felt through the fabric, and if that excitement wasn't the full thing just yet then it must be Arthur's birthday! Bearing his teeth in a sadistic grin, he began to ravish the spot on the other man's neck, biting gently and sucking on the sensitive skin. His own eyes had closed to enjoy the feeling of their bodies moving together that he had hardly noticed the large hands on his shoulders until they hauled him upwards and he was forced to look into the lust-clouded blue eyes of his assistant._

A shiver crept through Arthur's body as he stood with his hand still extended over the bin, his eyes wide and his lips parted. A small moan escaped his lips to which he immediately clamped a hand over and looked down to the growing problem in his nether regions. That memory was far too vivid to be just a dream and Jones had even mentioned during breakfast that Arthur had tried to make out with him. So, if that's what he did… then… _Bloody hell_. He thought to himself as he whirled around and looked around him frantically. No one was here, just him and Doyle who had been sitting near his feet and looking up at him with a displeased expression on his feline features. No one could hear his thoughts, no one could see the way he reacted to the memory.

With a small frown, the Brit leant down to scoop his beloved from the floor and strode into his bedroom, purposely petting the soft fur of his pet to rid his mind of those _wonderful_ images.

**Please excuse my grammatical errors of the last chapter.**

**2000+ views?! Omgomgomgomg. You readers are just incredible.**

**Sorry for the long wait. I've been busy traveling and school and stuff like that..so, yeah.**

**Anyhow, yay for more awkwardness! Francis should be making another appearance soon and sorry that this chapter was so short. But it gets out a lot of thoughts and emotions *coughsexualfrustrationscough * from Arthur and you got to see what went through his mind before leading up to the next event! Hope you enjoyed it and are looking forward to the next chapter!**

**As always, reviews make me happy and make me write faster!**


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